


a heavenly way

by giidas



Category: Tenet (2020)
Genre: Angst, Implied Slash, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Slash, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, The opposite of a fix-it, a break it???, nobody lives everyone dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26430061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giidas/pseuds/giidas
Summary: The words worm their way into your brain and won’t let you rest.Now, let me go.Let me go.Let me go now.
Relationships: Neil/The Protagonist (Tenet)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 118





	a heavenly way

**Author's Note:**

> ~~to die by your side is such~~ a heavenly way ~~to die what a time to be alive because forever is in your eyes~~ \-- The Smiths, What a Heavenly Way to Die//There Is a Light that Never Goes Out 
> 
> my brain wouldn't let me think about anything else, so here it is, with the added bonus of now hopefully being out of my head.  
> did i edit this to be exactly 999 words? MAYBE.
> 
> \---

Your life is a series of before Neil and after Neil and in between Neil.

You used to measure time in assignments, in downtime, but that changed with a couple of seemingly off-handed words from him.

_Let me go._

Let me go.

~~Let me go.~~

As if you ever had him.

—

The words worm their way into your brain and won't let you rest.

_Now, let me go._

_Let me go._

_Let me go now._

Did they leave a bitter taste in his mouth?

You were too green, and still are, to be able to figure out a way to save him. But then you think, if you’re to know him for years, why does future you not intervene? You have all the knowledge of that day. It’s etched in your memory, the exact times of the events that happened.

If you have a future in the past, does that mean there’s no future for you in the actual future?

—

He keeps saving your life, having outlandish ideas for missions and smirking those smirks and you’re— defenceless.

You’re drawn to him like a magnet, but every time you get close enough, it’s as if your polarity is switched ( _let me go_ ) and there’s a barrier, an invisible force ( _ ~~let me go now~~_ ), a persistent thought ( ~~let me go~~ ) that won’t let you take that last step.

You’re defenceless; he’s untouchable.

—

You still haven’t recruited him, he still hasn’t ( _let me go )._

This is the part of the story where you’re equals.

Well, you think, as equal as you’ll ever be, considering you know how he (let me go) and he knows— _something,_ too. Something ( ~~let me go now)~~ that he keeps so close to his chest, that it makes you wonder it maybe—

You’re starting to think it’s not just the story of his recruitment he’s keeping from you.

—

You get hurt and the tightly restrained fury radiating from Neil makes even the seasoned medics nervous.

He doesn’t even raise his voice. He asks, clipped and extra Brittish, why, pray tell, was he not given the information that there were enemy snipers on the escape route that was supposed to be cleared by the advanced team. The data analyst is visibly shaken when Neil dismisses them ten minutes later.

Neil hovers over the medic’s shoulder. His face is closed off, shoulders and spine rigid with tension. He leaves before the medic is done patching you up, and you're not sure if you’re disappointed or relieved.

You wonder who he’s more furious with. Himself, for missing the sniper, or you, for spotting the rifle and covering him.

—

The wound heals and leaves a nasty scar on your ribs, one more for your small collection.

Neil (let me go) never mentions the incident again and you don’t know how to bring it up. The newly established pre-mission ritual of Neil checking your bulletproof vest and you tugging on his helmet strap (LET ME GO) is something that you accept and take comfort in, and never ever question (let me go).

—

He knows your name.

He knows your name, because you gave him your unredacted file and wanted him to know (let me go). You didn’t expect him to start using it, no. You knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t (let me go).

But the fact that he _knows,_ the fact that your name lives in his ~~heart~~ mind— you feel it in his gaze when he says _hey,_ can hear the way your name (let me go) would sound in his voice.

You both know, and it seems like enough.

—

_Let me go,_ you think as you finish another mission without Neil.

Those always bring your mind back to the start (let me go), right to Sator, back to the stupid risks you took, high on this new thing. It seems more tedious the longer you go on ((let me go)), the more you see of the past. You’re the mastermind, the protagonist, and you play your role well, so very well. The more you see of the past, the more of the plan reveals itself, as if it was always stored in your brain. The benefit of hindsight, or foresight in this case? Or maybe both?

Who the fuck even knows anymore.

—

It should not be such a shock, when you ask for Neil and get an unsure, “Uh, I don’t think there’s a Neil on base, sir?”

But it is. It fucking is.

—

With all the information you have about him now, it still takes you weeks to find him, and a couple more days to formulate a plan, come up with exactly how to tell him, how to explain everything without sounding like you’ve lost your mind.

You want to show him everything right away but there are things that need to be arranged first. You know too damn well that at this moment you’re the only one who knows about Sator. He will only be the tip of the iceberg, sure, but one that still needs to be taken down to reveal all the others that followedpreceeded him.

 _But can the future talk back,_ you think and smile to yourself. Well, _you_ sure can.

—

Your first mission together should be a walk in the park.

It isn’t.

Neil is well trained, as fast as he’s always been, but his lack of field experience shows, and the way you keep expecting him to be somewhere, to move like your Neil, when he _doesn’t,_ is not helping.

He makes a mistake.

You move.

Instinct.

A red wet hand touches your face; he begs you to keep your eyes open.

You keep your eyes on him and struggle to breathe.

“‘s okay,” you rasp, grabbing blindly for his vest, “see y’soon.”

He’s shaking his head, eyes wide and wet.

His mouth is moving but you only hear static.

You wish you could laugh. You fucking _get it_ now.

Can’t say the three words you want to, so instead you say:


End file.
